The Dead Men of House Dunharrow
by dunbarbw
Summary: Two generations, two sets of twins. A story about family and how the past is doomed to be repeated.


**A/N: So I was this past week I was playing Telltale'sGoT and watching LOTR and I just had an idea for a story. I wanted to juxtapose two generations of the same family, and with some cool inspiration from JRRT and LOTR i felt like I could. Hope you guys like it.**

"How much further," the young man asked impatiently.

"Not much I imagine," his older sister answered.

"Aye," his older brother said in agreement. "The snowmelt's let us set a good pace. Anxious to see her baby brother? Worried she's as ugly as they say?"

"No," he said too quickly, color flooding his cheeks. "Who says she's ugly?"

"No one sweetling," his sister cooed. "He's just being a shit."

He exhaled deeply. Of course that's what it was. For all his fifteen years his brother's had taken any chance to torment him that they could. Though he had to admit, he was anxious. He was almost a man grown and his father had deemed it time he marry, so, with his brother and sister accompanying him to speak for the family, he was on his way to meet his possible betrothed. He counted himself lucky, his sister and eldest brother had been betrothed to southerners they had never met, but his father decided he might have some say.

" _He spoils you because you're the baby,"_ his eldest brother had said. _"That and no one wants to marry a third son."_

"Have you seen her sister," he asked.

"Well…no," she said after a while. "But more than one singer has spun a song of her beauty. I heard one in the Great Hall not a moon past."

"And she's of an age with me?"

"A few years older, not many. Her house is as old as ours. Their lands are rich, their keep is strong."

"You approve then sister?"

"I do."

"But if what you say is true," he said, "why would her father or her wish to marry me?"

"Oh gods," his brother said with a half smirk. "No one's told them has he?"

"Told me…told me what," he asked looking from his brother to his sister then back to his brother.

"Oh gods," his brother choked out between fits of laughter. He felt tears begin to sting his eyes, and not wanting to be mocked further by his brother he spurred his horse, trying to leave the laughter behind.

"And here I thought Brandon had stayed behind with father," he heard Lyanna shout angrily before he was out of earshot.

He raced through the trees, doing his best to put as much distance between him and Ned as possible while avoiding running headlong into a tree. His horse breathed heavy as he hurled down a narrow creek bed, branches whipping at his face. He was good at riding through thick forest, better than his brothers, but it wasn't long before he heard galloping behind him. It was Lyanna, he knew for certain, he teased her sometimes for being half a horse and knowing there was no hope of outriding her he began to slow.

"Benjen," he heard her shout. "Benjen stop this instant!"

"What hasn't anyone told me," he shouted back turning on her. "What are Brandon and Ned going to mock me for now!?"

"Benjen…sweetling," his sister said with a look of concern that he liked to imagine his mother would have had.

"Tell me sister."

"As you wish. Though you should not let it sway your opinion of the girl one way or the other."

"Just tell me."

"You would not be Lady Liara's first husband."

"What," he asked, confused more than anything.

"She was first wed to one of her houses vassals, a knight, Ser Garvin. He died, a hunting accident or some fall, I am uncertain. She is no maid, but if the stories are true she is beautiful and good and would make a lovely wife."

"For a third son," he said bitterly.

"For any man," Lyanna said reaching out and caressing his cheek. Every bad feeling he had melted away and he reached out and let his sister pull him into a hug.

"You're sure she's beautiful," he asked pulling away.

"Gods Benjen…yes! Now come on," she said tousling his hair. "If we hurry we can beat Ned and the guards."

With the slightest touch of her spurs the horse sped off through the trees. Benjen did his best to keep up, but his sister outpaced him with ease, even if she was going slower than she could have been. Twenty minutes passed without a thought as the two raced through the trees laughing, Lyanna taunting him playfully.

"Not to fast when we hit open ground," he called to her as she burst through the treeline. He was hot on her heels but expected her to be far afield as he came through the trees behind her. But instead he had to rein his horse in hard. She hadn't made it more than a few dozen yard before pulling up. Glancing towards the horizon he understood why.

"By the gods," his sister muttered.

"Is that it," Benjen asked.

"It must be."

Some 10 leagues from the tree line sat a lone mountain. The lands around it was typical of the Rylls, flat or gently rolling hills. It was hard for Benjen to say how large the mountain was from here, but its base looked green and fertile. He could just make out smoke rising from the villages that dotted it. The mountains peak was what made the siblings stop. The stone rose jaggedly hundreds of feet into the air. The formation was odd, the peak narrow, the melting snow forming a waterfall that caught the sun, so bright Benjen and his sister could see glittering from where they were. To him it looked like a broken sword flashing in the sunlight.

"I'm sure it would look much prettier if we got closer," Benjen said eventually.

"I'm sure," Lyanna said giggling and setting off at a brisk trot.

"Do you think they see us sister?"

"I'm sure they notice us. They won't see us until Ned works his way out of the woods with the banners. We may have time to walk around one of their villages," she said excitedly. As they rode on Benjen tried to remember all he could about the mountain and its house.

"It's called Solitude," he said loud enough for Lyanna to hear him. "It's the seat of House Dunharrow. There words are _'Death is not the End._ "

"That's right."

"Why hasn't Brandon visited? Or father?"

"There are…stories," his sister said, apprehension heavy in her voice.

"What sorts of stories," Benjen asked.

"They aren't important sweetling."

"I would hear them anyway," he said, noticing Lyanna scathing look. "Please?"

"Very well. I'm sure you've already heard them from Old Nan. In the Dawn Age there was no man alive more revered than Bran the Builder. He had built Storm's End, he had built Winterfell, and he was rallying men to fight against the Long Night. Back then the ancestors of House Dunharrow ruled as Kings of the Mountain. The Dunharrows could raise thousands of men, so Bran the Builder came to them for aid. Bran and the King of the Mountain made a deal, Bran would build a fortress inside the mountain itself. In exchange the King of the Mountain swore to answer Bran's call to arms against the White Walkers."

"What happened," he asked, all too aware how young he sounded.

"The White Walkers came, Bran called on the King of the Mountain and his men…and they did not answer."

"What!?"

"They hid inside their new fortress. So Bran the Builder labeled them oathbreakers and cursed them. The King of the Mountain and all of his soldiers will not know rest until he or his descendants come and aid in the fight against the White Walkers. They still dwell within the mountain, which is why the Dunharrow's do not."

"There's no such thing as White Walkers," Benjen said matter-of-factly.

"And there's no such thing as ghosts…but the small folk still call Solitude the Haunted Mountain."


End file.
